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spaceyaceface · 10 months

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You Were The First

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.

Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse

God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly.

It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch.

Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him.

He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him.

But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down.

Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast.

It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to.

He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice.

“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!”

His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?”

“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice.

And so he obliged.

He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet.

But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it.

The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm.

Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose.

Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly.

“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left.

Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said.

“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said.

“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?”

“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.”

As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone.

It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away.

In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again.

He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him.

The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands.

They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him.

But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him.

In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant.

She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully.

She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it.

“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!”

He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed.

“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away.

Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”

“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.”

“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said.

Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.”

He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.

When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her.

He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself.

Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him.

“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.”

He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in.

“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.”

He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.”

It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone.

Why did he rely so effortlessly on her?

The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn.

The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.”

He’d trust her with his life.

They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that.

But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them.

The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive.

Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?

But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.”

“I’m sure we’ll be—”

He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his.

“I think I see a path, come on now.”

She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?

They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso.

“We made it,” she said softly.

“Barely.”

She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening.

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who laughed.”

“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”

His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.

He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter.

What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung.

Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day.

He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon.

Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter.

Dear Ominis,

I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you.

I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian.

How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then.

Yours,

He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her.

How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place.

Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it?

He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write.

The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder.

She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going.

Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most.

Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories.

Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.

Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face.

Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side.

“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”

She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”

“You worry about me too much.”

“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply.

Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood.

His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him.

The first time she held him he fell apart.

Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other.

It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate.

He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.”

But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest.

The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left.

It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”

“What… what do you—”

“You’re crying.”

She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away.

“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…”

Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved.

Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful.

They never went back up to their dorms that night.

He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her.

Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her.

He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to.

She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.

He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her.

“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly.

“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close.

The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her.

It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt?

“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”

“Ominis…”

The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?

“I love you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that.

He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand.

“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.”

He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too.

After that he lost count.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x y/n #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt imagine

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cozage · 1 year

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OP Boys and..."I like the way your hand fits in mine."

Gender neutral reader

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Kid, Shanks

Luffy

He took off down the street, intrigued by the sudden commotion. You barely had time to grab his hand before he vanished in front of you.

“Luffyyyy!” You attempt to stand your ground to pull him back, but he has too much momentum already, and you slingshot towards him. “Luffy, slow down!”

You crash into him, sending you both tumbling into a poor couple nearby. Luffy’s gleeful cackle breaks through the stunned silence of the crowd. You quickly stand up and brush yourself off, embarrassed that the two of you have brought so much attention to yourselves.

Luffy is still laughing as he stands up again with you. “Aw man! I like the way your hand fits in mine!” He grabs your hand again, interlacing his fingers with yours and squeezing it tightly. “Don’t let it go again!” He bounds off again, unfazed by the commotion he’s created, pulling you alongside him. “Let’s go find adventure!”

Zoro

There was an uneasiness that hung in the air along with the thick fog, and you felt yourself pressing closer to Zoro as you nervously eyed your surroundings. A sudden crash behind you made you jump, and you instinctively grabbed Zoro’s free hand and held it tightly.

You could feel his eyes shift towards you, but he didn’t object, and you didn’t let go. You felt better knowing he couldn’t wander away. His hand wasn’t tense, despite your intense grip. He looked and felt calm, even though you could tell he was constantly looking for the perpetrator that you both knew was watching you.

Before you could register what was happening, he dropped your hand and drew his blade, slashing out at the unseen man who was charging at you through the fog. The man instantly dropped to the ground, unconscious. As he fell, Zoro sheathed his sword and dropped his arm back to his side. “Thanks,” you whispered, still processing exactly what just happened. Zoro merely grunted in return.

After a few moments, his hand brushed against yours, twitching. You pulled away and muttered an apology for bumping into him, but his hand chased after your own and grabbed it firmly. “I like the way your hand fits in mine,” he mutters, looking away and scratching the back of his head with his free hand. You can see his cheeks have a rose hue dancing across them, and you squeeze his hand in return.

“Me too.”

Kid

“What the hell are you doing?” Kidd demands, confusion dancing across his face.

“Look, we’re in handcuffs. It’s just easier to hold hands, okay?” Your wrist hurt from being jerked around by Kid’s antics. Perhaps if he could remember that he couldn’t use his hand, he’d be less likely to throw you around while moving it.

Kid groans, but doesn’t protest any further. “Let’s just find a way to get out of these damn cuffs. I’m tired of not being able to use my devil fruit powers.”

You all quietly sneak through the halls and into the Administrative Office that held the keys to the hand cuffs. After trying three keys, the lock finally releases, and the shackles fall to the ground.

As you retreat back through where you came, you realize you’re still holding Kid’s hand. Embarrassed, you start to let go, but he grips your hand tighter, refusing to let your hand slip away from his. “Not yet.” He says, pulling you along with him through the maze of matching corridors.

“But I thought-”

“Yeah, well, I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He grips it tighter, on the verge of being painful. You give him a light squeeze of reassurance, and continue following him without another word, a smile lingering on your face for the rest of the escape.

Shanks

The bar was lively, which was commonplace whenever the red-haired pirates were around. Shanks twirled you around on the dance floor, the two of you pushing together and pulling apart in perfect harmony. He was a great dancer, and you complimented each other well.

The music was cut off abruptly by the sounds of glass breaking and people screaming. Shanks grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him, shielding you from any harm while he addressed the situation that was unfolding.

A young pirate group, about 20 members strong, had entered the tavern and started causing a ruckus. “Listen, fellas,” Shanks tone was lighthearted on the surface but was laced with threats. “We’re all here to have a good time, now. You’re going to have to settle down or head outside.”

The pirate crew laughed maliciously. “Don’t you know who we are, old man?” The leader sneered. “Our crew has a combined bounty of 700 million berries. I think you’re the one who needs to step outside.” You could hear footsteps approaching, but Shank’s frame obscured your vision from seeing the perpetrator.

“Hey, what the-” the man who was speaking falters, and you can hear fists beating on flesh, swords being drawn. The townspeople scream and flee the tavern, leaving only pirates and those looking for a fight to battle it out.

Shanks turns back to you, still holding your hand. “Sorry about the interruption. Should just be a moment.” He smiles and spins you in a circle again.

You raise an eyebrow at the red-haired pirate. “You don’t want to help?”

“You see, I would. But the thing is,” he pauses for a moment a chuckles softly to you. “I just really like the way your hand fits in mine.”

You blush at the sentiment, and you all resume your dance, this time to battle cries and sword fights.

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fourmoony · 22 days

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I HAVE THE BEST REQUEST AND IT'S PERFECT FOR JAMES! like imagine reader sitting at home and suddenly she gets a text from james to come outside and he's standing there🥲🥲🥲🥲 so she asks what he's doing there and he's like "i just wanted to kiss you" SORRY IF IT'S TOO SPECIFIC

thanks for requesting, sweetie!

f!reader 1.1k words cw: drunk jamie

You're half asleep when your phone pings, illuminating the darkness of your bedroom in a distracting glow and you're half asleep, content to ignore the single ping, a problem for tomorrow. But another one follows a moment later, the third only seconds after the second. With a huff, your hand reaches out to grab blindly for the device.

James' contact photo smiles at you from the corner of the notification box, his glasses askew and hair a mess. Your favourite photo of him, despite how vehemently he detests it. The messages are a jumble of words you struggle to make out, vowels in the wrong places and an amusing amount of emojis, even for James. A laugh huffs it way out of you as the three text bubbles appear once again, and a fourth message comes through. A photo of your house.

You'd be concerned, should anyone else have sent you the eerie looking photo of your house in utter darkness, but James is a love sick fool. You'd have to be blind not to know that about your boyfriend, even if things between you are still pretty new. He's not got a bad bone in his body. But it doesn't stop the way you sit up in a panic, scanning the floor of your bedroom for less embarrassing clothing. You come up empty, and your phone is incessantly buzzing in your hands now that James knows you've read his messages.

You use the glow of your phone to find your way downstairs, your house keys, make your way to the door and unlock it. James is sprawled out on the grass of your front garden, phone comically close to his face as he squints at the words he's typing. Drunk. Absolutely obliterated, clearly. You'll give Sirius shit for it, tomorrow, you think, as you let an exasperated laugh tumble from your lips.

James whips his head around at the noise, scrambles like a puppy to stand and bound his way over to you. He tramples some of the flowers planted around the borders of the grass and you fight a wince. He's on you in seconds, warmth radiating from him despite having been out in the cold for god knows how long. His arms are strong and steady, even though he reeks of beer, as he pulls you into them, lips firmly planted on the top of your head.

You try to peek over his shoulder for any sign of who dropped him off, but the street is empty, desolate, and you decide he must've walked from the pub.

Sleep still clings to the edges of your eyes as James pushes you back - uncoordinated and a little roughly, but you don't mind - and holds your face in his warm hands. "Hi, lovely girl." His voice is sweet and brimming with excitement at the sight of you and your heart swells.

"What on earth are you doing here, James?" You ask, though your words are kind and laced with amusement.

Your boyfriend only grins like the cat who got the cream, like he can't wait to tell you all about his adventure, until his eyes snag on your pyjamas. Technically, his pyjamas. His old juniors rugby top from secondary school and his boxer shorts, left abandoned by him last week when he'd slept in for breakfast with his mum and left in a hurry, a kiss placed to your cheek and the promise of being home for dinner. It had felt so domestic you'd had to talk yourself down from overflowing excitement for hours.

"Woah." James breathes, eyes wide.

You'd known he wouldn't mind you wearing his clothes, even if a little embarrassment at the idea had clung to your skin as you slipped them on before bed. But you hadn't expected him to feel like that about it.

"Easy tiger, you're three sheets to the wind." You chide softly, using the distraction to usher him into the hallway.

You close and lock the door behind him, place the keys in the bowl beside the door. James finds you in the darkness, hands soft against the fabric of his clothes on your body. You don't have to see him to know he's smiling that coy smile he gets whenever he seems to remember he has you.

"Am not." He mumbles, as if your statement has just now caught up with him.

You laugh, take his hand to lead him towards your bedroom. He follows quietly and without protest, but frowns when you flip on the overhead light and place him on the edge of your bed.

"What happened to Sirius' epic boys night on the town?" You ask, hands on his face as you crowd the in between of his legs.

His hands come to rest against the backs of your thighs, grip firm but soothing. He smiles, head lolling to the side, "Well," He sighs, as if buckling in for some wild tale of beasts slaughtered and mountains climbed, all just to get to you, "Sirius and Remus got drunk, like really, really drunk, and touchy and they were kissing and it made me realise how much I wanted to kiss you. So I left, and I came here for a quick kiss."

"A quick kiss?" You ask, eyebrow raised.

James just smiles, nodding dutifully, like it makes the most sense in the world. "Yeah, I gotta go back. They don't know I left."

You let out a long, suffering sigh, reaching for your phone beside James. "You can't just leave and not tell anyone where you're going."

"If they even realise I'm gone, they'll know where I am. With you." James shrugs.

"How do you reckon?"

"Where else would I be?" He asks, so serious and determined, so sure of himself that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

You can't help but smile, sweet and saccharine, glowing all over as you lean down to press your lips to James'.

"You're sweet."

James wrinkles his noise, grip tightening on your thighs as he pulls you down to him, falling backwards with a gentle thud. You catch yourself before your head collides with his nose and James grins, childish and playful, "You're sweet, too."

"Thanks, Jamie."

He presses his lips to yours, again, simple and warm. He knows he's in no condition for anything else, simply tucks you into his side and tries to get you to fall asleep with him, right there in the middle of the bed, on top of the blankets.

He's dead to the world in seconds, so you don't have much room for argument.

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 1

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

The Farmer's Daughter 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.

“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”

“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”

“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.

“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.

He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.

Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.

You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.

“Hey,” he returns in his way.

You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.

You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly.

“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.

“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”

“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket.

To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”

“Pin,” he demands gruffly.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.

“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.

“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”

“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”

“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.

He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.

“How is he?” He asks.

You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”

He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.

“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”

“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”

He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.

“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”

You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”

He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.

“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.

“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”

He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.

Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #au #series #the farmer's daughter #backwoods au #night hunter

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Hurt III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your return to Kingsmeadow

The game you make your return in is against Tottenham at Kingsmeadow.

There's a bit of a scare in the morning when you're jumping on the stairs and you slip, letting out a little squeak from the shock of it all.

It sends Momma and Morsa crazy though, both of them rushing to you. Momma grabs your crumpled form quickly, checking over your head for any injuries and Morsa runs through a quick concussion check.

"Fine!" You insist as you try to pull away but Momma keeps your head still as Morsa checks your eyes with the little penlight she has on her keychain. "Just a little fall!"

"No, no," Morsa says," Stay still. We're just checking."

"Should we call Emma?" Momma asks," Do we tell her we can't make it?"

"Can make it!" You say," Not hurt!" You push away Morsa's touchy hands and glare, your little crinkle appearing between your eyebrows as you stare at them both.

"I want you to tell us if you start feeling sick," Momma says," Or if you feel a bit wobbly? Okay?"

"Not hurt!" You say again.

"Doesn't matter," Momma says," You have to promise me you'll say something."

You huff and agree reluctantly.

Morsa keeps a tight grip on your hand as she escorts you into the car and then into the locker room. By this point, you've got the tiniest of bruises near your hairline from your little tumble. It's very small but Sam notices immediately.

"What happened?" She asks, lightly rubbing her finger over it.

You shrug as you munch on your goldfish crackers. You had tried to get Momma to let you have the skildpadder you know she's got in the cupboards but she said that either you admitted that you were hurt or little girls who are just 'fine' don't need skildpadder to feel better.

You're a bit like Morsa, prideful, so you stuck with being fine so now have crackers as your snack for today.

"I fell," You reply," Down stairs. Bumped head. I'm fine."

Sam looks over at Morsa. "Is she? Fine?"

"No concussion," Morsa confirms as she helps you into your Assistant Coach jersey. "Just a little tumble. We're okay, aren't we, Princesse?"

You sigh. "I said that before!"

Morsa rolls her eyes a little at your insistence as Momma comes over to take your hand.

You're going to walk out with her today because it's your first time back with the team since you got hurt and she wants to keep an eye on you until the very last second.

You can hear the announcer as you step out onto the pitch with Momma.

"And a big welcome back for Chelsea's Assistant Coach y/n who returns from injuries!"

You bashfully look down at your feet as the crowd cheers and Momma holds your hand all the way to the bench when kick-off is about to begin.

She waits until Niamh has your hand to let go and kisses you on the head.

Immediately, you try to pull away but Niamh's got a tight grip on you and she gives you a sympathetic look.

"Sorry, kiddo," She says," But you're not allowed out of our sight. You've just gotta sit tight this game."

You don't want to sit tight and you huff loudly so everyone knows that you're annoyed.

"Sorry," Jessie says as her finger ghosts over your new bruise," But it's Captain's orders."

You frown for a moment, sulking in your seat in defiance before a thought crosses your mind. "But I'm the Big Boss," You tell Jessie and Niamh, giving them an unimpressed look that Morsa sometimes gives them," You have to do what I say."

Jessie and Niamh both laugh and shake their heads.

"We really can't," Niamh says," Sorry, kid, but we're more scared of Magda than you right now."

Your crinkle returns. "I can be scary!" You bare your teeth at them.

"About as scary as a kitten," Jessie confesses, pulling you into her lap and curling the sides of her coat around you.

"I'll be scary one day," You say to both of them," I will!"

"I'm sure you will."

When halftime comes around, you try to slip into the tunnel without anyone else. You're goldfish crackers are still in the locker room and you're getting kind of hungry again.

You don't make it very fair though because suddenly you're up in the air and on Millie's hip.

"Where do you think you're going all alone?" She teases," Trying to escape?"

"Hungry," You whine.

"You need to wait for an adult for these things," She tells you as she refuses to put you down during the walk to the locker room.

"Didn't used to," You reply stubbornly.

"Things change, kiddo." She places you on the ground. "Your snacks are where you left them."

The team don't leave you alone for a single moment even though a bunch of people get subbed on and off. You're always within arms reach of someone or cuddled up in their coat with someone. You're not allowed to stand on your seat like you used to be able to, always hurriedly brought down and placed in someone's lap.

"Not hurt," You whine after Momma and Morsa squish you between them when the match is over," Don't need to be watched."

"I think with your tumble this morning," Momma says," That you absolutely need to be watched."

You huff and wrinkle up your nose in annoyance. "Didn't tumble. Just slipped. Didn't get hurt."

"Oh, man," Morsa says in the weird voice she does sometimes when she's not being properly serious," That sucks. Because hurt little girls get to sleep in the Big Bed until they get better."

You freeze suddenly, stopping your walk.

You think for a moment.

You look up at Morsa. "Maybe...Maybe a little bit hurt."

"A little bit?" Momma asks, swinging your joined hands.

You nod. "Uh-huh." You pat at your bruise. "Ow. See, I'm hurt."

"Well then, I guess we better warm up a spot in the middle of the Big Bed for you."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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dorcas4meadowes · 3 months

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Strawberry Kisses - Luke

Castellan

Pairing: Luke Castellan × Reader

Summary: with a majority of the summer campers away, you and Luke indulged in the quiet through strawberry picking and a picnic date

Warnings: bodies of water, kisses

W/c: 1.5k (I think)

»»———-　　———-««

Sunlight hit Luke's features ever so sweetly, casting a golden halo over his tousled curls. He led you through the paths which were weaved between bushes allowing your fingers to grasp every plump fruit that caught your gaze.

You granted yourself the luxury of becoming distracted admiring the pleasures of the harvest season. You lingered amongst the scent of ripened strawberries and the feeling of dewy warmth, your arms swaying alongside your wicker basket which accommodated very few berries, eating more than you stowed away.

As you gathered the luscious fruits time seemed to slow, savouring the simple moments.

"They’re almost as sweet as you," Luke mused, holding a fruit up to the sunlight before placing it into the basket.

"Any time I believe you couldn't become any more sap you manage to outdo yourself Castellan."

He favoured the way your voice lulled his last name - it was said by many - but your lips managed to make the word seem untouchable. He placed a peck on your cheek before leaning down to twist a berry from a bush, before you too began to discover them hidden behind the copious greenery and flourishing flowers.

Once your container brimmed with red you dispersed from the fields with a smile, taking a detour to your cabin to pick up a larger hamper - filled with sweet delights - and made your way towards a secluded meadow dappled in indirect sunlight.

The perfect sanctuary for a picnic.

You stepped your feet onto the lush grass and escorted Luke towards the lake and laid your chequered blanket beneath the shade of an oak tree, the branches forming a natural shade.

You stretched yourself on the spread, enveloping yourself into the soft murmur of nature and letting tranquillity tug you into a tender embrace.

"Two days." Luke mumbled, noting you of the impending summer break.

"Mm, don't remind me" You said, reaching your fingers to rest in his curls and pull him closer to plant a sweet his on his lips. You left his warmth for a few moments before immediately being tugged back in. "Got something on your mind?" You asked.

"A few things…"

His fingers trailed along your back as if it were a path, your spine a road for his hands which led him to the crease of your knee. He lifted your leg over his own, inviting you to a seat - which you comfortably took - resting your weight against him. His hands slithered to rest in the dip of your curves, taking advantage of his position to brush warm kisses against your jaw and open shoulders. You moved a little to get an "adequate chair", but your actions were evident of what you were attempting, the kisses becoming unsteady and shaky. Your heart began to race in contrast to your slowing thoughts, being consumed in the intensity of your blended emotions.

Then they stopped all together, his head turned from you to find the startled gaze of your close friends – Clarisse and Chris – supposedly on their own adventure.

"Fuck" you mumbled, awkwardly waving to them after tumbling from your boyfriend's lap.

"Why are you waving?" Luke asked

"Maybe they'll go away."

"Piss off Rodriguez!" he yelled across the hill, his sibling swiftly putting his thumbs up before dragging Clarisse away who raised an eyebrow at your commotion.

"Why were they this far away from camp?" you questioned.

"Probably looking for a place to shag." He said bluntly.

After the encounter, you remained "civil" attempting to not scar any more of your companions. You spoke about your plans for when the summer residents would flood back to the camp and the duties you would start. Though, to be bold, Luke couldn't be more uninterested in the stress of a few days, so he pulled his shirt over his head, causing your lips to close and form a smile.

"A swim, while we still can?" He asked, allowing his fingers to snake to your shoulder to slip the strap from your dress. When the support fell, his eyes shamelessly glanced at the bikini which adorned your top, your chest pooling out of the small fabric.

Despite not being the first time he saw you undressed, a flush spread across his cheeks, a similar to the shade of the berries that you picked earlier.

"Swimming's still on, right?" You questioned trying to remain nonchalant, your hand lifting his chin, so his eyes met yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he reconfirmed, his words breathy and diverted.

You slid off your dress and stood, reaching out for his hand to drag him towards the cool tide, your feet stinging from the warmth of the sand which met the shore. Confidence began to seep into your posture as Luke seemed more flustered than he was letting on.

His mind was still preoccupied, so you kicked water at him, creating a war against the sea and the bodies that stood amongst it. You both lingered in the tide and hit one another with gushes of cool until you were fully submerged, gasping for air as your heads rose from the depth of the water.

You turned toward Luke and accepted his outstretched hand which curled around your waist and wrapped under your leg to fold your thighs around his torso. Your chin fell against his shoulder, your arms relaxed around his neck, simply being close to one another.

"Only if we weren't in public…" He muttered, swaying you a little in the water. You weren't in the direct vision of the camp, but this spot was common for wandering satyr's - and Clarisse and Chris - so you kept somewhat disciplined.

"Oh, do tell." You craved as he nipped at the skin below your ear, your legs tightening against him as he whispered sweet - dirty - nothings to you. The familiar all-consuming tension from earlier returned as easily as it left.

He slipped a finger under your jaw to force your eyes to his and you didn't waste time in pressing your lips together. It started gentle - just a press - , but Luke reassured you of how soft his heart truly was for you.

You revelled in the knowledge that only you got to see him like this, so relaxed and pure. Heat took hold and became contagious to Luke, the passion and intensity the two of you shared having no place for the public eye. It’s kept stowed away in the innocent gestures of light, playful touches or holding hands, now it’s revealed itself for what it is.

Inescapable.

No matter how many times the two of you kissed, each time felt different. Each kiss filled with depths of your emotions, that only spilled over when you couldn’t physically contain the heat any longer. He indulged once more before placing a quick kiss to your cheek, dismissing your prying hands and throwing you into the surf and swimming away, leaving you chasing after him.

You stayed in the ocean - quick pecks and swims - until you both grew exhausted and took rest on your blanket, leaving your bodies uncovered for the sun to kiss.

You lay tired and gazed up at the endless sky and let Luke busy himself amongst the flora, slipping many small flowers he had collected into the curvatures of your hair, sliding them into your braids.

And in moments like these you could appreciate what the fates had woven into your future - despite their dreadful manners - beauty could be found amongst the threads and fabrics, the boy beside you covering your life's canvas with an outbreak of stain age.

——————————

If you want to be added to a tag list for Luke fics just comment (requests are open as always)

<33

Master list

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo x you #pjo x reader #percy jackson series #riawrites

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twstowo · 3 months

Note

I noticed that you opened the ask box, so I came to ask for Floyd x Yuu with the scene from "The Little Mermaid", in which Ariel saves Eric from shipwreck, like it was an au where they met like that

I hope i'm not being too picky with my order ♡

♡OMG, I literally thought about this but with Azul, but then I was like, "Would Azul be able to save you?" because I have this mental image of him not being able to swim very well/being really slow. Lmao

♡Warning: Drowning

You'd always been a wanderer at heart, eager to explore the world, discover new places, and connect with people. Your adventure began when some sailor buddies welcomed you aboard their ship. Days at sea were filled with chants, parties, drinks, talks, and lending a hand to everyone. Once on land, you made the most of each day, wandering through cities and villages, documenting your experiences, and sketching landscapes. Your circle of friends in these new lands expanded so much that monthly, you'd receive a flood of cards and gifts, making it a challenge to find a spot for them all. Life was easy-going, a privilege granted by your birth into a well-off family, affording you the means to sustain yourself in these faraway places.

As you wrote letters to your distant friends, the sea's scent became a comforting constant, making you feel more at home on the waves than on solid ground. With night approaching, you finished the last letter and stepped out for a walk before dinner. It was then that one of your sailor friends, looking pale and alarmed, rushed towards you. "A storm's heading our way!" The wind had already picked up, and though storms at sea were nothing new, the urgency in your friend's voice unsettled you. "This one looks really bad, we might need your help," he said, and you nodded, following him.

With the wind intensifying, tasks on the ship became more challenging. The wind seemed determined to push everyone off the deck, and as you struggled to secure the unruly sails, your hands felt the sting of the rope. Panic spread across the crew, and for the first time, you feared this might be your last adventure. Looking at the encroaching storm, escape seemed impossible.

"Look out for that barrel!" you screamed as you watched the object land on someone's head, sending them tumbling down the ship. You ran towards them, grabbing their hand and holding it with all your strength to prevent the man from falling into the wild sea. The boat waddled with the strength of the waves, and you started to fear it would turn around at any moment.

"Don't let go!" you told him as you tried to pull him back up. You watched the fear in his face fade as he placed all his hope in your confident words. However, uncertainty crept in as the strength drained from your arms. The biggest wave you had ever seen approached the boat. You feared you'd never see your friends and family again as you said your last words before the wave hit all of you. "Fuck!-"

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You felt so cold, your body shivering as you slowly opened your eyes. It was mainly dark, but you could see some strange light from above reaching towards you. Nothing made sense as your brain tried to process everything around you. Strange wood started sinking around you, and the bodies of the crew members slowly sank by your side in a slow rhythm. You tried taking a deep breath, but your brain didn't allow it as you realized that you were underwater, having fallen off the boat after that huge wave hit it.

You finally grasped the situation as you started flapping your arms and legs around, trying to reach the surface. Wood pieces hit you along the way, sending you tumbling repeatedly. You feared the oxygen would not be enough for you to save yourself. Your throat burned as you tried holding your breath, unable to swim back to the surface. Everything started to become dark as you dared to breathe in the water. Then, you felt a strange touch on your shoulder. The lack of oxygen was surely playing tricks on you as you watched a strange creature look at you with a curious glance. You closed your eyes, awaiting death to take you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Floyd observed your sleeping form on the sand. He had brought you to the nearest land he could find, ensuring that your chest's gentle rise and fall indicated life. It was the first time he had come in contact with a living human, finding you strangely intriguing. Although he had seen some humans at rock bottom underwater, encountering a living one was a different experience.

Attempting to wake you, Floyd shook you gently, his fin hands reaching for your shoulders. However, your eyes gave no signal of opening. Annoyed, he sighed and lay back on the sand, half of his long tail submerged in the water.

Minutes passed as he lay there, gazing up at the sky. Strangely, after saving you, he felt in a remarkably good mood. He wanted to talk to you, for you needed to thank him, and he had questions about the inland people. Your head leaned against his shoulder, your cheek touching him, catching him off guard. He grinned as he gently arranged your hair.

When your eyes started to open, Floyd watched as you struggled to comprehend the situation. Weak and almost unable to move, you stared at his face, just a finger's distance away. You had never seen someone like him—strange ears, unnatural skin colour, and vibrant yellow/brown eyes. "Wh-Who are y-you?" you weakly whispered, and he quickly glanced behind, sitting down on the sand with his arms, reaching for the water.

“Oh My! Y/N is that you!” a voice shouted, and you tried to sit down, looking in the direction of the man who had vanished. You swore you had seen a tail—had you been saved by some sea creature? "We need to take you to a doctor!" a friend's hands reached for your arm, trying to help you stand as you continued gazing toward the ocean.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“A human? I wasn’t expecting you to take such a strange liking to one of them,” Jade mocked his brother with a grin.

Floyd wasn’t enjoying Jade's tone as he swam away. He had been interrupted by another landwalker just when he had the chance to talk with you, not even learning your name. Though he'd never admit it to Jade or Azul, Floyd occasionally returned to that beach, hoping to meet you again. Perhaps one day, the two of you would get to talk properly, and Floyd could finally learn your name.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #disney twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd x reader #twst jade #jade leech

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tohot4u · 6 months

Text

This fragile thing

shattered/weapon prompt

Macaque's heart had always been a fragile thing.

Far before the Lady Bone demon confined his soul into a frosty prison of a bitter memory. Much farther than when the gears in his chest churned to a stop.

It had alway been treated with the utmost care,you see.

Skittish and mistreated,his heart would wither,faulted in its beats. His shadows,of course,cocooned it in gentle strands of darkness. Leaving him…more susceptible to the natural world. His body of more mortal means.

The moon's soft caresses are his only saving grace. For when the moon shined brightly,high up in the midnight sky. His shadows would grow-and oh-it was amazing and he felt so energized. And he was never afraid of what could harm him

When night was about he could breathe-he could run,he could chase the clouds and tumble down grassy hills. Inhaling the sunny fragrance from the flowers,without ever stepping into the burning light of day.

So of course,of course he didn’t know any better when he ran into playmate- one fateful night.

He was the essence of what he hated,yet his touch had never once burned him. No bruises or bursts of weariness. No yearning for sleep even if he had just awoken.

He was everything macaque hated-and everything he ever wanted.

It was one night-then two. A few more or so before he was convinced to join his little adventures. Only a couple of days before he was cuddling up close to the ‘king’. Every emotion and feeling ever so carefully logged in the back of his mind.

Anger,and soft,jittery rattling would echo. Cry,and it would quiver. Laughing would tickle,wonderful tingles coursing through his bones. Worry and it would shake,edging on painful.

Love

Now that was the most dangerous-most fatal one.

That sticky,tainted sugary feeling he knew best to avoid. And for a time,had never any interest.

For if he loved, he would surely shatter.

But then-

The sun smiled so warmly upon him. Basking him with such an overwhelming presence-he could do nothing but melt within-

Surely-

That could not be true! Not entirely true!

For if the sun loved him as much as he did the moon-

If his heart were to surely shatter-

Then the pieces of his heart would scatter across the night. Vibrant crystals like stars etching their names forever in the sky.

#lego monkie kid #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #lmk fanart #macaque #liu er mihou #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong #monkie destiny challenge 2023 #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach art

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fanaticsnail · 21 days

Text

Please, I'll be good

Masterlist here.

Word count: 1,200+

Synopsis: after rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

Themes: unrequited love, semi-sub!love-interest x semi-dom!reader, gn!reader, kissing, confessions of love, he sits on your lap, he is incredibly needy, he just wants to kiss you, fully clothed, sfw, literally just kissing, you call him "sweetheart," brief mention of 'reader' having a friends-with-benefits relationship with another character.

Notes: I couldn't get this kiss out of my head, and I needed to write it down. It was written with Sabo in mind, but I could seriously see any of these wonderful men in his position. I love writing kisses 🖤. Big thank you to @sordidmusings for her suggestions with the inner monologue 😩👌

Tag list: @lostfirefly @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @carrotsunshine @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry

He saved you. Again.

Whether it was standing beside him in combat, rescuing you from unwanted attention at a tavern, ensuring you were well fed and hydrated during the day, taking care of all the supplies you needed upon your next adventure - he was always there by your side: your associate, confidant and friend.

In this set of unique circumstances, he managed to do more for you than simply tear you from combat. He saved you. Truly, saved you.

A finishing shot was aimed at you, and your body froze in place. With your eyes wide, he snatched you from your stance and whisked you from your place in the heat of battle.

After checking you for injuries, he cupped your cheek and uttered with all sincerity: “You're safe. I've got you.”

“Thank you, Sweetheart,” was all you managed to whisper in your shock, a name you had bestowed to him, half in jest, that simply stuck. He was a sweetheart, and you had no choice but to refer to him as such.

The relationship between the two of you was strong, as close as close friends could be. You shared your deepest secrets with him, and he shared his thoughts with you. You adored him, everything about him just sang to your soul.

At one stage early on in your comradery, you could've seen yourself diving into something deeper with him. But as you both opened yourself up more in your friendship, you chose to halt it in place. “Flirty friends,” is how you'd refer to it, “Just flirty friends.”

Casually lounging on the plush sofa beside him, you notice he's a little more on edge than usual. He's sitting up straight, rigid and firm beside you as his eyes fix on a point on the wooden panel behind the unwoken transponder.

Attempting to put him at ease, you sit up a little and rest your head on his shoulder and bring your hand up to encase his within yours.

“Thank you again, Sweetheart,” your words whisper as you trace gentle circles into the back of his hand with your thumb, “You're always so good to me.”

His body seemed to tense up more, the softest hitch in his breath alerting you of his discomfort.

“Are you okay?” You ask, leaning away from his shoulder to glance into his face. His eyes remain fixed on the point, his teeth clenched behind his closed lips.

In one final attempt to put him more at ease, you lean up and gently touch your lips to his right cheek. A soft gasp along with the turn of his cheek inwards had you pull away from him to check in one more.

“Sweetheart, what's wrong-?” You attempt to ask, he immediately speaks over the top of your concerned tone with an unsure and elevated tone. He avoided your gaze with his eyes, but kept his face turned towards you.

"-Look, I know you've got someone. M-Maybe even a couple of someone's. I know I'm not what you want-...” He utters quickly, his words tumbling over his lips faster than he can hold them back, “...-I just want you to know that you're what I want. You're the only one I want. If you could be that for me, for just a little while, I'll be so good to you. Please.”

You're left stunned. You’d often play into your friendship a little with some light banter and flirting, simply to see how far he'll play along. Flustering him, watching him hide his smile by downturning his face, was one of your favorite things to behold. Whether you were working, or relaxing in your home for the night with a few of the others - he was often flustered with your words and body language.

He quickly turned his head more and angled his chin down, seeking out your lips with his own. He hovered just before making contact, dancing with the borders of friendship and giving in to his craving for something more.

“I suppose you do need something beyond a simple kiss on the cheek this time,” you smiled at him, cradling his cheek beneath your right hand and drawing him closer, “You've been so unbelievably good to me, afterall.”

Smiling broadly, you lean forward to press your lips gently against his in a chaste kiss. He deeply and sharply inhaled through his nose, a subtle whimper rising from within his mouth. This small peck ended as soon as it began, his body chasing yours upon your retreat. He wordlessly called with his body to you, beckoning you into another kiss.

You give him just a touch more than the kiss prior: a real kiss that is deep, long and loving. A kiss that leaves him begging for more and more. Any time he thinks you may end it, any time that you start to slow down or lighten the pressure, he’s grasping to have you impossibly closer and begging you not to break your lips from his.

In his mind, he is crying for you, screaming for this moment to never cease. “Just give me a little more, anything. I'm sorry I'm not what you want but could you please keep doing it? Please, please? As a reward?”

“I was good!” He continued his inner monologue, hungrily claiming your lips against his own, “I can keep being good for you.”

You could feel his desperation from each kiss he placed upon your lips, hungrily seeking more and more each time he broke one kiss to lead into another.

“I’ll be so good,” he whispered into your skin, his breath tickling against your lips as your eyes widened in response, “Please. I'll be good. So, so good.”

“Sweetheart- mmmfph!” you whispered his name as he consumed your words with his mouth hurridly, his eyes flinching as he drew his body closer.

“Y-Yes?” He stuttered, his knees crawling up onto the cushioned base of the sofa as he prowled towards you. You responded by inching away from him and bringing your hands down to cup behind his thighs.

Urging him towards you with your hands, you press your back against the frame of the back-rest of the sofa, and usher him to straddle your lap. His hands flew up to your cheeks, his long fingertips finding the hair behind your ears and lacing them within it.

He hastily pressed his lips into yours, turning his head and moaning against your mouth. Prying open your lips with his, he hurriedly sought your tongue out with his own: savoring every moment you were granting him your undivided romantic attention.

Raking your hands over his thighs, you drew them up to his hips: fingers dancing along the hemline of his shirt. He winced away, a huffed laugh in reaction to your gentle touch, a laugh that caught within his mouth as you tickled his skin.

He reached his hands down over your own, breaking your contact away from his stomach and placed them on the back rest beside your head. He interlaced his fingers with your own, deepening the kiss as you took every moment of affection he was pressing into you.

“Sweetheart,” you whispered once more, attempting to break away your lips from his to no avail.

“Please,” he whimpered against your lips, “Please, let me keep kissing you,” he sobbed, kissing the corner of your lips and uttering, “I just want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened, darting down to his lips and back to his beautiful eyes. Your lips parted as you began articulating your thoughts, halting only as he drew his fingers to your lips and pressed against them softly.

“Please.”

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pahtoosh · 24 days

Text

baba face

[image ID: photos of sebastian stan, chris evans, and various stuffed animals photoshopped onto a yellow background. sebastian stan is holding a round wolf stuffed animal and looking into the distance. chris evans is hiding a smile with a hand over his mouth. the stuffed animals include four frowning stuffed animals and one smiling one. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~2400 words

warnings: reader takes a little tumble

a/n: this was inspired by @angelbaby-fics ! Chloe, thank you for showing me your turtle and inspiring this whole piece! (side note: if anyone would like to talk about their stuffies, I would LOVE to hear about them!!

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader

summary: sam gets a stuffed animal for reader that frowns like bucky! things get out of hand when the other avengers join in and buy reader way too many grumpy stuffies

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

It all started when Sam came back from a mission in late June. The Avengers would sometimes bring back presents when they went overseas. They didn’t always have the time to stop by a gift shop but when they did, the gifts were always cherished and held a little closer when the Avenger eventually had to travel again.

Two weeks before his mission, you had gotten very close with Sam. Your daddies asked him to watch over you one day and he gave you a whole adventure. He took you to a pottery painting studio, then the park, and ended the day with the best ice cream you’ve ever had. From then on, you were inseparable.

During group meal times, you’d make jokes with him across the table. If you were allowed in the room for a meeting, you’d pass notes back and forth. Sam would also play with you during Tony’s summer parties; he was going to let you fly with redwing before Bucky marched outside and confined you to his hip for the rest of the night. You didn’t mind too much though, the sky probably wasn’t as comfortable as being held by Baba.

Your attachment to Sam made this mission all the more difficult for everyone involved. You, because you missed your friend. Sam, because he missed your happy giggles and felt bad for leaving you right when he finally gained your trust. And your daddies because they had to witness you get sad every time something reminded you of Sam.

Fortunately, the mission was going well and he was expected to return right on time. On his last day, Sam was looking both ways to cross the street when a stuffed animal in a display window caught his eye. He looked at his watch to see if he had enough time to make his flight, then quickly entered the store and bought the plushie because he knew you’d love it.

On the plane, Sam sat with the plushie in his lap to keep it safe. It was still in the bag from the store, looking like an oddly shaped lump in a now wrinkly paper bag. When Sam returned to the tower, Steve was the first to greet him before you nudged your Dada out of the way to give Sam a bone-crushing hug.

“I missed you, Sammy!”

“I missed you too, peanut.” He kneeled down and handed you the paper bag. “I gotcha something.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you! I love it!”

Sam laughed. “You haven’t even opened it yet!”

“I already know I’m gonna like it because it’s from you,” you said, matter of factly. “But okay.”

You opened the bag and gasped when you saw the plush.

It was a soft turtle with a slightly slouched posture, but that wasn’t the part you were focused on. Your favorite part was the plushie’s grumpy expression. It looked just like Bucky.

“HE HAS BABA FACE! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” You screamed your gratitude while running circles around the trio of Sam and your daddies. Sam and Steve were barely holding in their laughter, meanwhile Bucky stood confused, but happy that you were happy. Despite his super hearing, he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. Did you say baba face? Or maybe you said bubble face?

Bucky figured that this wasn’t something he needed the answers to immediately, so he didn’t ask any questions and resolved to watching you tire yourself out.

The grumpy turtle became your new shadow. Everywhere you went, so did the plush. You’d have it tucked under your arm while running through the compound. During mealtimes in your home, the turtle would get his own chair and toy food. Outside, you kept your turtle in a drawstring backpack with the head poking out so he could see the world too. When your daddies carried you around, you’d make a silly game out of making the turtle mess up your Dada’s hair or bite your Baba’s ears.

Even before giving you the turtle, Sam loved to boast about how he was your favorite Avenger(you didn’t have a favorite, but you didn’t have the heart to correct him on that when he kept giving you all of his attention). When you all played hide and seek, he bragged for three days straight about how you chose him to be your partner. Your attachment to the turtle only heightened his pride.

He always asked you where the turtle was, knowing it couldn’t be more than three feet away from you. Sam made a big fuss about the turtle having his own seat at the dinner table and fell victim to your strength and contagious giggles when you pushed him out of his seat to make room for your turtle. Sam learned his lesson that day and didn’t fight for the turtle to have his own chair in the debriefing room. However, he did bring in an extra stool for the plush. Sam even bought you the very drawstring backpack that allowed you to take your new friend on your outdoor adventures. In private, he’d ask you about how the turtle was settling into his new home and gave him the gentlest kiss when you said the turtle needed more lovin’.

The others all thought your friendship with Sam was adorable, but there was one person who saw this as an opportunity for some friendly competition. Natasha knew that there was room in your heart for more than one avenger bestie, so she devised a plan to take her spot. She had two missions in August–the first: survey a crime group that’s suspected to have ties with Zemo. The second: give you a gift worthy of four days of bragging.

After successful recon, Natasha’s plane landed in the Avenger’s HQ. She turned in her paperwork that she completed on the flight home, then went to freshen up so she could give you your gift. Natasha found you cuddled up with Steve in the movie room watching some old cartoon. She knocked on the door.

“Got any room for a couple more friends on that couch?”

“Natty, you’re back!” You untangled yourself from Steve and ran to give her a hug. You looked behind her expecting to see more of the group. “Where’s the other friends?”

She held up a bag with the arm that wasn’t hugging you. “Your new friend traveled a long way to get here.”

You squealed and hugged Natasha again before accepting the bag from her hand and kneeling on the floor to pull out the tissue paper and free your gift.

“You guys are spoiling them, you know that?” Steve asked, lightheartedly from the couch.

“Oh hush, how many hours of screen time have you given them today?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple times, not expecting the question.

“Doesn’t count if the movies came from your time, right?”

Any response from Steve was cut off by your cheering.

“BABA OCTOPUS!! BABATOPUS!!” you held up the plush proudly like it was Simba. “Dada, look!”

“Oh he’s beautiful, baby.” Steve chuckled at the round, bright red octopus plush with a deep frown on its face. “What do you say to Nat?”

“THANK YOU NAAAT!” you yelled. Excitement flickered across your face once more, then you ran out of the movie room with the octopus securely tucked under your arm.

“Where are you going, baby? And no running indoors!” Steve shouted as he chased after you.

You slowed for a bit, but kept moving at a swift pace. “I hav’ta show Baba my new friend!”

Natasha watched your little race from the movie room with an amused grin on her face. During dinner that night, she enjoyed the shocked look on Sam’s face when you pulled up with two grumpy plushies and pretended to feed the octopus before the turtle.

Sam turned to Natasha. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

She smirked. “And you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Steve leaned over to whisper to Bucky. “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The competition expanded beyond Natasha and Sam. All of the Avengers were determined to find the next grumpy plush to win your heart. There was a penguin from Peter, a frog from Thor, a cat from Tony, and a panda from Wanda. Your collection was starting to get out of control. You desperately wanted to carry all of your plushies everywhere with you to keep things fair, but your daddies put an end to that when you tripped on the sidewalk while trying to push a stroller full of scowling stuffed animals.

Bucky decided to help you create a system so you could fairly pick one plushie from the collection to carry around for the day. He made small slips of paper so you could write down their names and pull one out of a cup each morning. He brought his supplies to you while you were having an afternoon snack at the dining table. His heart broke seeing you with your knees bandaged up and the streaks of dried tears from the fall earlier today still on your face.

“Hi, Baba,” you sniffled.

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? You eatin’ your snack?”

“Mhm.”

“Why aren’t you eating at the kitchen island, baby? You always eat your snack there.”

You pouted and gestured to the plushies sitting around you. “I can’t fit all my friends there.”

“Oh I know, bubs. It must be so hard carrying all these guys around, huh?” He mentally scolded himself for leaving you alone during your snack. He should’ve known better than to expect you to stay put when your little friends were trapped inside the stroller. It must’ve taken so long to arrange the plushies around the table with your injury.

You perked up at his next words.

“Baba has something for you.” Bucky spread out the slips of paper on the table and placed a cup next to them. “You can write down the names of all your little friends on these papers and pick one name out of the cup to decide which one you’re walking around with for the day. Does that sound fair?”

You shrugged, “I guess I can do that.” You really would’ve liked a solution that allowed you to bring all of the grumpy plushies with you everywhere, but deep down you knew that it just wasn’t practical. You took the pencil that Bucky held out for you and started writing down your plushies’ names.

Your Baba lovingly kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back while you wrote. He loved watching you focus on a task. He almost didn’t notice what you were writing down.

Bucky squinted then blinked a couple of times, not believing what he saw. “Baby, why are you writing ‘Baba’ on everything?”

You paused and tilted your head back to look at him. “That’s their names. Baba Turtle and Baba Cat and Baba Bear and Baba-”

“Why do you call them that?”

“‘Cause look!” You picked up the grumpy frog sitting next to you and held it out for Bucky to see. “They look like Baba!” You hugged the plushie before setting it back down to continue writing.

Bucky’s heart melted. His sweet, wonderful baby was so attached to these plushies that reminded them of him. His signature scowl that often got him into trouble brought them comfort. His friends even noticed and spoiled his baby rotten with even more of these toys.

Bucky continued watching you work. He looked at the plushies differently now.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Steve and Bucky were cleaning your playroom. Normally this would be your responsibility, but you had gone to bed a little earlier, and they didn’t want you walking too much with your injury. Steve was putting your plushies into their designated bins. He wasn’t harsh with them, but his efficient method of gathering an armful and plopping them down certainly would have raised an eyebrow from you.

“Hey, go easy with turtle me,” Bucky teased.

“Turtle you?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded proudly, then held the plush up to his face. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”

“Whatever, punk. At least my face isn’t the reason we have a 50 gallon bin of stuffed animals.” Steve turned around and kept cleaning, completely missing the look of excitement on Bucky’s face.

The next day, your Baba volunteered to pick up breakfast while Steve helped you get ready. Bucky stopped by a toy store on his way to the bakery. He’d seen this particular plushie before and knew that this was the perfect moment to get it for you. Not too long later, he was entering your home with bagels in one hand and your new friend in the other.

Bucky hid the plush behind his back when he heard you and Steve walking towards him.

“Hi, Baba!”

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead, then kissed Steve’s cheek as a thanks when he handed off the box of bagels.

You hugged Bucky and couldn’t help but notice that one of his hands wasn’t hugging you back.

“Baba, hug me better,” you whined.

Bucky laughed. “Hang on, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.”

You gasped in excitement and took a step back so you could see. Bucky revealed the plush with a dramatic flourish, then somewhat nervously waited for your reaction. The stuffed animal had you in shock. It was a stuffed giraffe that stood with the most perfect posture. It had spiky hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. You knew exactly who it was supposed to resemble.

“IT'S DADA!” You squealed and graciously took the plush while running to the kitchen where Steve was. He was already making his way to you when he heard your scream.

“Dada’s right here, bubba. What’s going on?”

You held up the plush while doing a little dance. “Look! It’s a Dada giraffe!”

Steve laughed then ran a hand over his face when he made the connection. You ran off to your playroom, saying something about “finding a Baba for this Dada” while your daddies shared a look.

Bucky brought in Steve for a hug, patting his dumbfounded lover on the back. He playfully whispered in his ear, “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #marvel agere #sfw agere #baba face #baba-face #toosh writes #plushie fic #stuffie fic

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goodwhump-temp · 5 months

Text

Shawn Spencer Whump | Psych

1x02 Spellingg Bee - Motorcycle crash, hospital, knee brace, limp, bumps into bin, pain 1x03 Woman Seeking Dead Husband - Held at gunpoint x2 1x05 Lives - Held at gunpoint 1x06 Weekend Warriors - Held at gunpoint 1x15 Scary Sherry - Nightmare

2x02 65 Million Years Off - Shot at, scared 2x03 Psy vs Psy - Hostage 2x04 Zero to Murder in 60s - Brief boo-boo (chair race sabatoged) 2x05 And Down the Stretch... - Childhood bully 2x07 If You're So Smart... - Bullied by children 2x09 Bounty Hunters! - Handcuffed, jumps off boat, held at gunpoint 2x13 Lights, Camera… - Nearly nailed to death (38:00), character funeral 2x15 Black and Tan - Sad (18:30) 2x16 Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead - Mummy 'curse'

3x01 Ghosts - [Flashback; emo/arrested] Increasingly angry about mothers' return, confrontation, heartbroken 3x04 Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable - Shot at, chased x3, restrained, held at helicopter-point and gunpoint, betrayed 3x06 There Might Be Blood - Held at gunpoint, dangerous confrontation 3x08 Gus Walks Into A Bank - Held back, worried, bank hostage, tight gus hug, manhandled 3x10 Six Feet Under the Sea - Held at gunpoint 3x11 Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing - Punched unconscious, hostage, held at gunpoint, pistol whipped, fatherly care, nearly passes out (40:15) 3x12 Earth, Wind And… - Runs into burning building, oxygen mask, held at firepoint, caught in burning building, briefly thought dead, coughing/smoke inhalation 3x13 Any Given Friday Night at 10PM - 'Abducted' 3x14 Truer Lies - Held at gunpoint 3x15 Tuesday the 17th - 'Trips', held at 'knifepoint' 3x16 An Evening with Mr. Yang - Angry, mom held hostage, scared, heartbroken

4x01 Extradition: British Colombia - Held at gunpoint x2 4x02 He Dead - Daddy issues 4x03 High Noon-ish - Stampede/pushed, falls into mineshaft, pain, held at gunpoint, trapped 4x04 Devil is in the Details… - Confession 4x05 Shawn Gets the Yips - Scared/dumb ("bomb" on treadmill) 4x06 Bollywood Homicide - Slapped (39:15) 4x07 High Top Fade Out - Held at gunpoint, shot at 4x09 Shawn Takes A Shot in the Dark - Shot, abducted/missing, bleeding, pain, knocked unconscious, choked, jumps on moving car, weak, sling 4x10 You Can't Handle This Episode - Shot at 4x12 A Very Juliet Episode - Held at gunpoint, punched x2, knocked down x2, kicked 4x16 Mr. Yin Presents - Nightmare, angry, heartbroken x2, fatherly love

5x01 Romeo & Juliet & Juliet - Held at gunpoint, falls through window, kicked through wall, insane dodging skillz, knocked down, sore 5x03 Not Even Close, Encounters - Held at gunpoint/abducted by 'aliens' 5x04 Chivalry is Not Dead - Hanging upside down (tomato face), poisoned, collapse, hospital, unconscious 5x07 Ferry Tale - Held at gunpoint x2, hostage, kicked in the face, tear gas inhalation, restrained, trips/tumbles down a hill 5x09 One, Maybe Two, Ways Out - Seriously heartbroken 5x12 Dual Spires - Trapped in burning house 5x13 We'd Like to Thank the Academy - Held at gunpoint x2 5x16 Yang 3 in 2D - Held at shotgunpoint, scared

6x01 Shawn Rescues Darth Vader - Jumps off roof 6x02 Last Night Gus - Hungover, stressed, jumps from balcony, shot at 6x04 Amazing Psych-Man & Tap-Man - Trips, found unconscious, punched, kicked x2, thrown, sand to the eye, exhausted 6x06 Shawn Interrupted - Mental patient, hands covered, knocked unconscious, restrained, held at gunpoint 6x09 Neil Simons Lover Retreat - Robbed, heartbroken x2 (29:35), smile through the pain (42:00) 6x10 Indiana Shawn and the Temple - Hand stuck, slapped, manhandled, held at gunpoint, 'crying' 6x13 Let's Doo-Wap it Again - Appendicitis, collapse, hospital drama-queen, held at gunpoint, drugged, drugs wear off, le rigor mortis, le pain, le kitty cat! 6x16 Santabarbaratown - Held at knifepoint, knocked unconscious, black-eye

7x01 Santabarbaratown 2 - Scared, angry, thrown, active mine, held at gunpoint x3, Lassie love 7x02 Juliet Takes A Luvvah - Traumatized (27:00) 7x03 Lassie Jerky - Shot at, held at gunpoint 7x04 No Country For Two Old Men - Held at gunpoint 7x06 Cirque Du Soul - Pain from pull-ups 7x07 Deez Nups - Huge confession, heartbroken 7x08 Right Turn Or Left For Dead - Insomnia, regret, depressed, head slammed into glass, bruise, concussion, denial, stabbed, nearly hit by truck, headache, tackled 7x11 Office Space - Poked x2, trips, bloody nose, scared, framed 7x14 No Trout About It - Painful yoga, choked, fired

8x01 Lock, Stock… - Held at gunpoint, "restrained" 8x05 COG Blocked - Jumpscared out of hammock, painful poke, body decked by cane, held at gunpoint 8x07 Shawn & Gus Truck Things Up - Hand squeezed painfully 8x09 Nightmare on State Street - Slapped, zombie 8x10 The Break-Up - Nervous, held at gunpoint, shot at, emotional

#whump #emotional whump #whump list #whumplist #psych #psych whump #shawn spencer #shawn spencer whump #james roday #james roday whump #shawn spencer whumplist #psych tv

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whoistartaglia · 1 year

Text

you avoid your crush.

how do you deal with an unwanted but undeniable crush? you avoid them: save the friendship, mourn the relationship. or, so you thought.

including: cyno, the wanderer.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight angst, mostly fluff.

cyno.

when you realized you’ve developed feelings for cyno, your best friend, you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t tell him and ruin the friendship. that would be a disaster, and break your heart twice over: once, to lose cyno as a friend, and again, to lose him as anything more. so you resigned yourself to only have your heart broken once: you would avoid cyno until your feelings disappeared, and keep your friendship with him intact.

so that’s exactly what you do. everything was going fine, too—until today, when cyno cornered you in a small alcove at the akademiya.

“oh, cyno…! funny seeing you here…”

“is it, though?” he asks. “i do work here. we both work here, actually. wouldn’t it be stranger not to see me?”

yes, it is, but cuno doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues: “so isn’t it quite strange that i haven’t seen you in what? a week or two now?”

“yes… i guess.”

cyno waits for more, but you give him nothing else. you fidget under the weight of his stare. he’s observing you and you get the feeling like you’re an experiment gone wrong, a conclusion miscalculated.

“al-righ-t,” cyno finally says, drawing out each syllable. he hesitates for a second before his face hardens and he says, “if you want to avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist, then you can avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist. i can’t stop you, even if i hate it. but i would have at least wanted an answer as to why.”

cyno steps aside then, as if to tell you the conversation is gone, you’re free to go. but you don’t move, can’t move. you can’t even think as cyno steps away, only his words ringing in your ears: i would have at least wanted an answer as to why. you owed him that much, at least.

“wait, cyno—“ you take in a deep breath, and the words tumble out all at once. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for avoiding you i— i really thought it was the best since i like you and you don’t like me, and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but it just ended up hurting the both of us and it was a really stupid, but i didn’t know what else to do and… i’m really sorry.”

you look up when cyno doesn’t say anything. he’s still studying you, maybe even more intensely than before.

“yes.” he finally says.

“what?”

“it was really stupid.”

your face burns in embarrassment. cyno continues, “not just your plan—but that you thought we couldn’t be friends if i didn’t feel the same way back.”

“i know i just—“ you abruptly cut off, repeating what cyno just said in your head. “you feel… the same way back?”

“yes. i’d tell you it was stupid not to realize i also like you… but until now, i didn’t know you felt the same.”

“oh.” and then again, because you don’t know what else to say, “i’m sorry.”

cyno allows a faint smile to grace his lips. “i’ll forgive you this time, [name]. honestly, i’m just relieved you don’t hate me.”

“i could never hate you,” you say immediately.

“it didn’t feel like that this week. or last.” you look down again, disappointed that you allowed yourself to make cyno feel that way. he continues, a little gentler: “you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“how?” you ask, already knowing you would do anything.

“how about you let me take you on a date? granted that’s something you probably want but there, you can tell me everything.”

you wouldn’t say no on any circumstance, but especially not when cyno’s finally smiling at you again. your relationship was off to a more than rocky start, but you find yourself hoping you can turn it around for the better.

the wanderer.

it was hard to avoid the wanderer as you were adventuring over teyvat together, just the two of you. when you first realized your feelings for him, and decided they would only prematurely end your expedition when he didn’t feel the same back, you swore to keep them a secret. to do that, you would need to distance yourself from him, but that proved rather difficult and… well, extremely obvious.

you stare into the flames of your small campfire. you sit opposite of the wanderer, though on previous cold nights like these, you probably would have been right next to him. similarly, you both would have trading stories and reminiscing about past adventures, not blanketed in this silence.

it’s clues like those, coupled with the equally obvious signs that you were had feelings for him, that let the wanderer discover your plan.

the wanderer leans back, resting on his elbows. the sun was setting, and already the stars would come out. on clear nights like these, you would spend hours—maybe the whole night—pointing out the different constellations.

looking at you now, eyes boring in the fire, the wanderer knows that’s not going to happen tonight. at least, not if he doesn’t do something about it.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he starts. you glance up sharply at him.

“yeah, i guess,” you mumble, looking back down.

“why?”

you trace circles in the dirt. “i’m just… tired. i guess. yeah, i might just go to bed early—“

“have you ever heard of,” the wanderer cuts you off, “the phrase, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder?’”

you pause. he can’t possibly know… can he?

“i’ve know of it,” you reply tightly.

“so then you also know that you’re little idea of ignoring me in hopes that your feelings go away was doomed from the start, right?”

startled, you look back up again, and meet the wanderer’s gaze. you meet the wanderer’s gaze, and like all the times before, you know there’s no use in lying to him. not when he already suspects the truth. “i… yes.”

“and i assume you didn’t want me knowing because you didn’t think i liked you back?”

your silence is answer enough.

“well, you’re right.”

what.

what?

but then the wanderer cracks a smile, and he’s beside himself laughing: “oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“you’re the worst.” but now there’s a smile on your face, and you’re also laughing: at him, at your plan, at how despite your fears, the wanderer likes you back.

it makes you feel giddy, like you could spend the entire night laughing under the stars—and looking at the wanderer, now coming to sit next to you, you feel like you just might.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact the wanderer #scaramouche x reader #the wanderer x reader #scaramouche headcanons #genshin impact scaramouche headcanons #the wanderer headcanons #genshin impact the wanderer headcanons #cyno x reader #genshin impact cyno headcanons #genshin impact cyno #cyno headcanons #genshin fluff

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